Your hated of me hurts
Burns the cavity above my heart
Why the disgust
Why the contempt
I did my best to be the best
For you and the kids
It never was enough
To gain your love.

Losing a first love
In a car crash with a train
Has to be devastating
But there's nothing
I can do to change the pain
Lingering in your heart.

The wooden cup stood up
and said to the silver
What is the difference betwix you and I?
Tell me what is the Unlikeness?
Lips press against me just
as they press
against you
They slobber
wine down the side
of our cup and flute
until they can hardly stand
and are unconscious and mute
They grasp us and drop us
in their stupor and rage
They throw us and pick us up
and press us against their lips
again and again.
The silver goblet shined intensely

A land barren of hope,
never knows the soothing wind
The trees standing here
have bare branches, black as sin

The rivers are murky waters,
carrying the stench of cowardice
where the quitters' souls drown,
having lost their will to fly.

There are no beautiful colours here,
only creeping shadows of the past
where the ghosts of the fallen gather
bemoaning their fate turned to dust.

This is the hell created by Man
when he refused to strive

maeve is dancing to love boat,
and I seriously wish I could tell you.
this entire time we would be texting
and I would tell you how weird she is,
and you would probably call me a dork.
frankie bostello says love won't hurt anymore,
I wish my friends were here.
mom makes dinner for five in her penguin pajamas.
she made me put lights on the tree outside,
and the job I did was so utterly terrible
she yelled and me and redid the whole thing.
dad is napping.
dad is never not napping.

I swore I'd never forget
the sound of your voice
But it's slipping now
So much noise
Too many gripping fingers
In my mind

I'm scrambling to keep hold
Cause I can't let you go
Everyone's released you
But I'm fighting to hold on

The moments we shared
The joy and laughter you evoked
tears I have cried and the ones
I've had to wipe away

A twelve year old boy on the playground
Like all kids clowning around
Aims his toy pellet gun
At walkers just for fun
Shot by cops, lays dead on the ground.

finely nuanced Zen
moments, my sensitive gaze
unfurls mysteries

If I can't ask for good music even amongst
the news, please thank me later on. A man
with bleary red egg yolk for eyes fell down
a ravine and re-emerged from the city bathhouse
drain as the second coming of Christ still in
a grainy color edition of a B-film. His hair
is a light blonde, his eyes a skinned blue halo.
The water is a vinyl black freezing in rivulets
which are guitar picks for a moment, frosty
constellates pausing on each zipped flat
of his cardigan guitar case, torn as he moves

I object! I object!
This child is too green
to define love
and the lure of sin!

She knows not the diference
between lust and true affection!
Don't let her lose her innocence
to the filthy hands of mortal demons!

Dear God! Let me taste her anger
and the hate from her young heart
that she may thank me later
for never letting her drift apart.